


High Tide

by Demon_Apostle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humorous Ending, M/M, Married Couple, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Apostle/pseuds/Demon_Apostle
Summary: Their surroundings are quiet for the most part, but McCree isn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I made this with the idea that I wanted some quick domestic fluff with these two, and I ended up with a McCree who ruins the mood with bad humor. Why?
> 
> I own nothing.

The sun was at its highest peak by the time they stepped onto the porch of the house they would use when given leave, gifted to them by the other members of their ragtag group of troublemakers. The air was salty and warm, compliments of the ocean lapping at the sand just a few yards away from their small, comfortable home. No one was on the beach since it was private, a perk that was thankfully added into the thought process when the others were choosing which home would be suitable for the newly married couple (mainly for the sanity of one of the men who preferred quiet surroundings despite his choice of partner). The view was amazing both during the day and the night, and the house itself was also beautiful in its own way. It wasn't very big as it was picked out with the thought that it should be big enough for just two people (grown men or not), but the design and comfortable atmosphere made up for the compact space. It was made to look like a lodge one would find in the forest, smooth and polished trunks making the outside walls. The inside was more modern with painted wooden walls that created a total of four rooms in all, housing everything the two newlyweds would need in order to live some semblance of the peaceful life. Each room was decorated with a minimal amount of decor in mind, leaving enough space for the mobility of two large men. A wooden porch and overhang finished off the entirety of the house, complete with a cushioned swing that allowed them to enjoy the seabreeze in comfort whenever they wanted.

 

Now was that time as both men carefully sat on the swing, McCree lifting his arm to place it on Hanzo's shoulders so he could pull him closer. The archer gave no protest, practically welcoming the contact as his hip met with McCree's and his head went to lay on the cowboy’s shoulder. Both breathed in the salt-laden air, taking deep lungfuls as they gently swayed back and forth. Hanzo brought his hand towards the one McCree had on his shoulder, intertwining his fingers with the other's and hearing a soft clink as his ring collided with metal. He closed his eyes against the wind gently blowing against his skin, listening to the waves crashing, the seagulls flying overhead, even the harsh breathing of his husband (letting him know that the other man has smoked many cigars in his lifetime that ended up making his voice almost painfully ragged). If he allowed himself, Hanzo could fall asleep in this moment, lying against McCree and letting the smell of the ocean cling to him. He almost does, eyes having stayed closed far longer than he intended, but McCree's voice rumbles in his chest and Hanzo's ears as the man talks.

 

“Would ya get mad at me if I said it?” The question was vague, but Hanzo had been with McCree long enough to know what he was asking. Feeling the mood partly ruined, Hanzo raised his head to give a flat look at his husband who could only chuckle in response. Oh, if only the assassin didn't love this man then he wouldn't be able to chuckle like he knew there were no repercussions for his antics. Instead, he'd be tossed into the water, hat and all while Hanzo watched him flail and curse his way out of the salt and sand. But the former heir knows he loved McCree far too much to ruin his precious iconic items.

 

“Absolutely, yes I would. You will not ruin the atmosphere with your sad attempt at what is not considered humor.” One would expect the gunslinger to pout or frown at the words, but his smile only widens as he leans over to kiss the graying hairs on Hanzo's temple, once, twice, a total of four times before he speaks again.

 

“Please darlin’? Just this once?” Hanzo rolls his eyes, not bothering to pull away from the lips now trailing down to his cheek (would never be able to willingly move out of range of those kisses if he tried).

 

“I believe you said that the last time we spent time here. And the time before that. Your once is a lie.” Another chuckle, familiar breath ghosting across his face that smells strongly of whiskey that had been taken straight from the bottle not even ten minutes ago.

 

“But it fits so well right now. Promise, the next time we're here, I won't ask ta say it. Cross my heart.” Hanzo hums as the lips move from his cheek to his jaw, pressing against the trimmed and kept beard of the older man who tilts his head just slightly.

 

“Why am I not convinced you will keep that promise?” He feels more than sees the shrug in response to his question, holding back the urge to roll his eyes yet again as the lips trail lower. He knows full well he won't win this silly conversation, never has when it came to McCree, but Hanzo wants to see how long he can drag this out before those lips make him cave. He's close already, sighing when McCree kisses against his pulse and gives a small nip at his skin.

 

“Pretty please darlin’? With sprinkles and cream and all the good stuff topped on a vanilla sundae?” Hanzo grunts, neither a confirmation nor a rejection to McCree's pleas, but the other man doesn't seem to be in any sort of hurry for an answer. He simply continues to let his lips explore the expanse of Hanzo's neck, something he has mapped out time and time again with both lips and hands in kind. He presses another kiss to the other's pulse, now ascending as his journey takes him towards Hanzo's very own lips, ones he has tasted, bitten, and licked countless times, each one better than the last. He brings his other hand up, gently grasping Hanzo's chin and coaxing him to look at McCree. He hovers just mere millimeters away, staring into dark brown eyes that he still thinks are the most beautiful in the world, the same thought being directed towards McCree without his knowledge. They stare at each other for as long as it takes, the cowboy smiling at the conflicted glint in those chocolate eyes.

 

“Sweetheart. Sugar. Babe. Please.” He sees the conflict grow along with the desire to give in as Hanzo becomes affected by the pet names. He's delighted when the older man holds on longer than he thought he would, still moving forward in the end to catch McCree's lips in a kiss that tells him everything he needs to know. McCree is barely able to kiss back as he smiles in triumph, soaking in his victory as Hanzo keeps their mouths locked together in a vain attempt to keep his husband from ruining the relaxing mood. Always in vain, and when McCree is finally freed, Hanzo steels himself for what's to come. The silence stretches longer than it should, and the archer knows he's being forced to endure. Finally, the hand on his chin falls away, McCree looks towards the ocean, and Hanzo closes his eyes in hopes that he won't groan in frustration.

 

“It's high tide.”

 

The ocean answers back by crashing harshly against the sand, Hanzo's own noise nearly mimicking the water. He loves the man to pieces, but sometimes wishes that meant literally so he couldn't speak.

 

McCree can only think to smile through it all.


End file.
